


Try to Take Him

by Slytherin_Princess_Nysa



Series: Lord and Lady Baratheon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya is going to throw hands, F/M, Fist Fights, Gendry is a Baratheon, Gendry is in love, Gendrya - Freeform, Idiots in Love, Jealous Arya Stark, Larisse Lannister (OC), POV Arya Stark, but hes also dumb, but shes dumb, not you Larisse, someone smack these fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 02:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20400190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa/pseuds/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa
Summary: It seemed that no matter how many times Gendry had seen her covered in mud, sweat and dressed in trousers it hadn’t convinced him that Arya was much less a lady than a highborn girl ought to be. He’d seen her lugging about the thin sword Jon had given her and chasing Nymeria through the courtyard with her wild hair whipping over her flushed face and still, the idiot boy had decided to ask his father if he could court her.It isn't until Lady Larisse Lannister shows up at Storm's End with the intent on wedding Gendry that Arya has to face her own feelings. After all, a lion has never been able to stand between the stag and the wolf.





	Try to Take Him

**Author's Note:**

> this is a gift for T, aka shekilledthenightking on tumblr

“Leave me alone, you stupid bull!” she tried to move past him but Gendry was a human wall between her chamber door and the rest of the hallway. Or as she liked to think of it these days, between her and freedom.

Gendry’s eyes were downcast, hand anxiously rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had hoped you would break your fast with me this morning, Lady Arya.”

Arya sighed heavily, scrunching her nose up in distaste and looking away from his hair- now sticking up in odd angles, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

It always started with a small request with him- break her fast with him, ride around the town with him, come to see the new weapons he had made in the forge, once he had even asked her to go on a hunt with him. And while the start was friendly enough, it always meant the same thing to him- she was one step closer to accepting his long winded courting. So far she had managed to steer clear of his advances, for all six months since she had arrived in Storm’s End.

The worst part was that she liked Gendry Baratheon. He was sweet and strong. And worse still, her father liked him.

For the first several weeks of her stay in Storm’s End, he had been a friend. Her saving grace really, he comforted her when she missed her family and took Nymeria out when she had caught a summer cough. They would do everything together, with Mya tagging along sometimes. They would hunt and ride with Nymeria and practice their aim in the yard, he had even showed her a shield he had made for one of his fathers men as thanks for many years of service. They were together from first light to nightfall.

Which, looking back at it, was the beginning of the problem.

It seemed that no matter how many times he had seen her covered in mud, sweat and dressed in trousers it hadn’t convinced him that she was much less a lady than a highborn girl ought to be. He’d seen her lugging about the thin sword Jon had given her and chasing Nymeria through the courtyard with her wild hair whipping over her flushed face and still, the idiot boy had decided to ask his father if he could court her.

She had been waiting for him by the lake with Nymeria, running her fingers through her pups hackles. Gendry had come lumbering down to the grass where she was sitting, a grin lighting up his face. At first she’d thought his father had approved for them to go hunting without the regular escorts trailing behind them, but he’d plopped down next to her and stared at her hands nervously. When she’d asked him, Gendry had smiled sheepishly and told her about his plan to court her. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she’d stood up with an angry kick to his shin when he tried to follow her and stomped away.

She hadn’t talked to him for a week, hoping he would stop being foolish and just be her friend again but he hadn’t. Gendry had stopped calling her Arry and started calling her ‘Lady Arya’, like she was some stupid lady who liked to sew and sing and be courted.

Like she was _ Sansa _.

Arya missed her friend, the one who teased her and just called her by her name, even in public. No titles, no pomp and circumstance and no blush covering his cheeks when she pushed past him and moved as quickly as her legs would let her down the hall.

She heard his breath catch like he was readying to call after her, but Arya had already sped down the stairs and taken the first open door to the courtyard. Leaving bullheaded _ Lord _ Gendry behind her with an angry pink tinge in her cheeks that she refused to acknowledge as she climbed up to the battlements.

Mya was sitting, her legs dangling over the edge and her leather jerkin was shrugged off and bunched under her head as a pillow. She looked up at Arya, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, “What did my idiot baby brother do now?”

“He-” Arya stomped her feet before sitting next to her friend. Rolling her eyes, she dropped her voice as low as she could, “_ Oh! Did I wake you, my lady? Won’t you break your fast with me, lady Arya? Didn’t mean to wake you, my lady. _”

Mya laughed and sat up, shaking her hair out of its pulled braid. “Be honest, are you mad because he’s courting you or because he keeps calling you ‘Lady Arya’?”

Arya opened her mouth and closed it, once, twice and finally glanced down at her rough hands. “Both. I’m not a Lady, never was, never will be. I’m not the marrying kind.”

“If he wasn’t the first born son of a Lord, wasn’t a Baratheon at all.” Mya tapped her chin. “Maybe a knight or a blacksmith. Would you want to-” she scrunched her face in thought. “Not marry, perhaps, be an outlaw with him? Ride off into the lovely Riverlands sunset?”

Arya shoved their shoulders together, rocking them on the wall. “It doesn’t matter, does it? He is a first born and a Baratheon. Whoever he marries won’t just be a lady, she’ll be _ the _ Lady. He’d be better suited for Margaery or Arianne, even Princess Daenerys.”

“Why?” Mya raised a trimmed brow. “Because they wear dresses and speak proper?”

“That amongst other things,” Arya sighed loudly. “They like being Ladies and helping the commonfolk and don’t make all the visiting Lords hate them.”

Arya picked at a thread sticking from her trousers. Arya liked spending time with the commonfolk, she liked pretending like she was one of them and while she knew her numbers better than any of her siblings, she wasn’t the leader type.

It was a common occurrence for Arya to scare away any visiting ladies and lords. Lady Baratheon would bother her to wear dresses and she had tried several times, only for Gendry or Mya to dirty up her skirts and corset with too little time to change. She knew the highlords had nicknames for her, not particularly kind ones.

“You didn’t answer the question you know,” Mya reminded her, head turned to stare at the road into Storm’s End. “If he wasn’t who he is, would you want to be with him?”

Arya looked at her hands, there was a scratch over her palm from where Nymeria had accidentally nicked her a few days ago. Older marks covered her fingers from knocking arrows into a bow and the string cutting into the tips of her fingers. A slight burn was on her thumb from where she’d touched one of Gendry’s still hot swords when she’d first arrived. No proper lady would have such scarred hands.

But Gendry knew she wasn’t a proper lady, didn’t he?

He had seen her messy and dirty and looking more like a squire than a girl of six-and-ten. But he hadn’t been shocked or disgusted like she had expected from a future Lord. Gendry walked around covered in soot and smelling like melted steel most of the time, so he wasn’t a proper lord either, was he? He liked letting his hair grow wild and he liked play fighting with the kids in the village, even the little girls.

If she let herself look at him, which she would deny doing, he had the loveliest pair of deep blue eyes that she had ever seen. Many people said he and Mya had their father’s eyes, the three of them. But Arya couldn’t see it. Mya’s were a brighter more troublemaking blue. Robert’s were dulled by age and the memory of her long dead aunt.

But Gendry’s eyes?

Gendry’s were like the very depths of the still waters of Storm’s End when he was calm and when he was angry they reminded her of the sky when one of the most famous summer storm’s hit. They were deep and expressive and Arya felt like an absolutely stupid little girl thinking about his eyes.

Faintly, she thought she could hear the singing of his hammer from the forge close to the courtyard. He always made such pretty music when he forged. It sounded different today, frustrated and out of rhythm. Arya wondered if it was her fault before she shook the thought out of her head. It was just a strange passing fancy he seemed to have taken to her. It would pass quickly and it would be best not to put absurd ideas into her own head.

Suddenly she looked up at his sister, Mya was looking back at her and Arya opened her mouth, not sure what would come out. “I-”

A loud whistle broke through the air and the girls’ head whipped towards the road in time to catch the large red and gold wheelhouse pass through the tall stone gates of Storm’s End. The wheels splashed up mud and a group of knights jumped back with their arms up in disgust. It stopped right at the entrance and Arya could see Lord and Lady Baratheon come from the castle doors just as the wheelhouses slammed open.

“What are Lannisters doing here?” Mya asked.

Arya craned her head to see over the cream canopy covering the castle entrance. A slim figure stepped out, a delicate hand holding her skirts as she stepped off the final steps with a hand held in her knights hand. A funny looking hat, a thicket of feathers were sticking up, was balanced on the side of her head and a waterfall of curly blonde hair rained down her shoulders and knotted into a fancy braid down her back.

“Is that Larisse fucking Lannister?”

“What is she doing here?” Aray felt her fists curl as she watched Larisse drop into a graceful curtsy in front of Lord Robert and Lady Corinne. She hadn’t done that when her father and her had arrived, and she’d ridden in wearing trousers.

“Maybe she’s here for-” and the rest of what Mya was saying became whitenoise because Gendry was walking out of the forge and he was covered in soot and trying to clean his forehead with a dirty old rag and he looked awkward but welcoming as he and Larisse were introduced and she did that damned perfect curtsy again.

Arya hopped to her feet, and farted down the stairs, Mya running after her as the two girls quickly made their way to the courtyard where the Lannister party had settled their horses and wheelhouse. Larisse was laughing as she was introduced formally to Edric and Barra, Gendry and Mya’s younger siblings. Barra was hiding behind her mother’s skirts while Edric looked at Larisse trying to coax the little girl out, thoroughly unimpressed.

Green eyes flicked over Arya like she was nothing more than a mud puddle in her way, “You must be Mya! My uncle’s told me so much of you.”

“Yes,” Mya said, glancing worriedly at Arya. “Lord Tyrion came to visit after I had broken my arm, he was quite helpful.”

Larisse laughed and waved her hand in the air, “He has a knack for playing with broken things. Mother says it’s because no one had time for him when he was young.”

Lady Corinne cleared her thought lightly and Larisse turned with a raised brow, Gendry’s mother patter her husband on the shoulder, “We should head in, my son needs to bathe and the winds have picked up, a storm is coming. We wouldn’t want anyone to catch a cold.”

“Of course, Lady Corinne,” Larisse responded quickly, eyes wide in faux innocents.

Arya saw through her and rolled her eyes as they were all ushered inside by a worried Lady Corinne. Arya lagged behind, staring at Larisse’s lace hem as it dragged behind her delicate heels with a frown curling her lips.

“Careful, you’ll set the poor girl on fire,” Arya turned to face Edric. “Do not give me that look, you’re staring at her like she’s taken your precious Needle.”

“I am not!” Arya hissed, glancing up to make sure none of the others had noticed them stop in the hall behind them.

“Are you jealous?” Edric reached to pinch her cheek teasingly. He was her age but already a head taller than her, stupid Baratheons. Edric gasped when she swatted his hand away, “I seem to remember someone going on a rampage about marriage and,” he cleared his throat and raised his voice an octave. “Stupid bullheaded idiot, who does he think he is?”

Arya crossed her arms over her chest, staring down the empty hallway where everyone had disappeared. “I don’t like her.”

“Because?” he trailed off.

Arya chewed her lip, huffing, “She reminds me more of a snake than a lion.”

Maybe he sensed her strange inner turmoil, but Edric didn’t push her further, offering his arm to her instead. Arya shoved it away with a smile and walked in front of him.

“Hey, Arya?” she hummed in response, a smile still playing on her lips. “It’s okay if you like him, you know.” Edric rolled his shoulders in a stretch. “It won’t make you less of a warrior to have feelings for my lug of a brother.”

* * *

Larisse Lannister had been at Storm’s End for all of a week before Arya was willing to take whatever punishment King Rhaegar gave her for strangling another highborn lady. Or she could toss the lion cub into the bay and be done with it.

The worst part of watching Larisse gracefully move around the dining hall every day, three times a day, and hearing her annoyingly high pitched laugh when Robert said something (not) funny was seeing how badly she tried to stick her claws into Gendry. Arya didn’t know when she started being more vexed with Gendry- when he acted like Arya was a lady or when he acted like Larisse being one was a curse.

She was sitting on the bench in the courtyard, legs stretched out in front of her and Nymeria nuzzled against her feet. Arya heard the ringing coming from the forge and let it lull her. Larisse would follow Gendry around the castle and grounds but she refused to step foot in the forge, apparently the heat and steam ruined her carefully arranged hairduos.

Barra was sitting in her lap, playing with the end of her long braid. Barra was four and at that stage where she thought everything was a toy, including Arya’s hair and, much to Corinne’s horror, Needle.

“Arry?” Arya hummed back, reclining back to look down at the little girl. “Why are you mad at my brother?”

“I’m not mad at him,” she said automatically. Barra’s chubby fingers froze, twisted in her hair, she looked at her with scrutiny Arya didn’t expect from a child.

Then she nodded like she’d figured out the answers to the universe. “Yes, you are.”

Arya rolled her eyes, she wasn’t mad at Gendry. She wasn’t. “What makes you think so?”

“You don’t make fun of him anymore and you don’t laugh at his jokes like before, I think it makes him sad.” Barra’s eyes widened and her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t like seeing him sad and you don’t have fun here anymore.”

“I have fun with you and Mya and Edric.” Arya nodded confidently, but inside she was sad because Barra was right. Storm’s End wasn’t as much fun without her best friend by her side, and he wasn’t around because the idiot thought he wanted to marry the most unladylike horse-faced girl he could find.

Arya would deny it if anyone asked but she missed him. She didn’t know that she could miss someone she still saw every day, but she did. Arya missed Gendry the way she missed Nymeria before her parents had agreed to bring her wolf to Storm’s End, like she could sense a piece of her was missing and she couldn’t understand why.

“But not as much fun.” Barra said.

Arya stood up so suddenly that Nymeria whimpered at her pillow being yanked away. Barra screeched as she was wrapped up in Arya’s arms. “Let’s go see him then.”

Hefting the little girl on her hip, Arya crossed the courtyard towards the open doors of the forge. Barra clapped her hands happily when the hot gust of steam hit them from the embers Gendry was using to heat a long sword. Arya grinned when Barra’s wide eyes looked around the forge in rapt fascination.

Barra’s little fingers reached out to touch one of the sharp, steel arrowhead on the table and Arya bounced the child as she moved past. Keeping Barra from cutting her fingers off was her main goal. Arya cooed when Barra pouted at having the shiny things kept out of reach. Barra humphed and Arya turned to where Gendry had been standing.

He had turned around and was looking at them, a strange look on his face. Arya smiled, trying to ignore the swoop in her stomach when his eyes softened and his fingers loosened on the handle of his hammer. Barra held out her arms towards her brother and Arya stepped forward to accommodate her wish to be held by the big brute.

Gendry automatically grabbed onto Barra and lifted her out of Arya’s arms and snuggled her into his own. Arya was close enough to see the soot staining his bare arms, streaks over his cheeks and forehead.

“What have you girls been doing all day?” he asked his little sister.

“Mama is having tea with Lady Larisse.” Barra muttered before hiding her face in Gendry’s neck. Gendry looked down worriedly before glancing to Arya.

Arya reached over to rub her back. “She doesn’t like Lady Larisse.”

“She’s mean.” Arya nodded absently, even though Barra still had her face hidden and couldn’t see her agreement.

Barra looked up from her hiding place and grabbed onto the end of Arya’s braid. Looking up, Arya could see a slight smile playing on Gendry’s lips and she blamed the blush covering her cheeks on the forge heat and not how close Barra had accidentally brought them.

“What’s that stupid look on your face?”

He cleared his throat, turning his head to look past her, “What look?”

Without thinking, Arya tapped his chin to turn his face back. Her eyebrows raised. Arya saw one of the older blacksmiths moved in the corner of her eye, he glanced their way and Arya snapped her hand away from Gendry’s face. It wouldn’t do to give anyone the wrong idea.

He swallowed hard and muttered under his breath, embarrassed. “Barra has your hair.”

“Pardon?”

Gendry shifted on his feet, flustered. “She has your mousy hair and my blue eyes. When you came in,” he coughed. “And you were holding her and smiling at me, it was like…” he trailed off, a dark blush creeping over his dirtied cheeks.

Her eyes widened in realization and she pulled Barra back into her arms faster than she thought possible, quickly stepping back. Gendry looked at his empty arms in thinly veiled shock. Barra looked like their child, passed between them with ease and looking too much like the two of them to be acceptable, in Arya’s opinion.

“I should go see your mother, and Mya. They’ll be looking for us.” Arya stuttered unattractively, turned on her heels with the little girl in her arms and ran away.

“Wait, Arya!” But she had already slipped out the door with Barra asking her questions.

* * *

“What’s on your mind?” Mya asked somewhere between the salad and the pot roast.

Arya picked at her food, clutching her fork tighter when Larisse’s hand landed on Gendry’s shoulder when she laughed. Too loudly, Arya thought with a roll of her eyes. “Nothing. Just tired from practice.”

It was a lie. For the last two days since Gendry had confessed to picturing her as the mother of his children, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She would picture a little boy with her eyes and Gendry’s stubborn pout or a little girl with Arya’s love for riding and Gendry’s for swords. She could picture Nymeria carrying her children while Gendry fretted after them to make sure they wouldn’t fall off. She tried to convince herself that the little squeeze her heart gave when she thought of it was from annoyance, not want.

Gendry said something and Larisse almost spat out her wine from laughter. Arya seethed and Mya whispered, “Bet you wish she’d choke on that.”

Her head turned to Mya, “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” the stag smirked and Arya felt annoyed. A little voice in the back of her head, sounding suspiciously like a taunting Gendry, agreed with Mya.

“Do not,” she snapped too loudly.

“What are you two arguing about?” Robert’s voice boomed from the end of the table and Mya blinked innocently at her father.

“Arya was just telling me about a new sparring move she’s been trying.” Arya nodded absently, thankful for Mya’s quick wit, finding Gendry’s eyes on her from his seat next to his father. He smiled and Arya turned back to Robert without returning the gesture.

“Oh, you spar, Lady Arya?” Larisse asked, sipping her wine delicately.

“I do,” which Larisse knew, she had seen Arya practicing in the yard more than once since she had arrived. All the while, her nose turned up in distaste. Seeing Larisse pass the courtyard always made Arya swing harder at the practice dummy and, she would deny it if anyone asked, picture the Lannister girls face.

“Uncle Jaime has been teaching me to wield a sword since I was a mere child.” she gloated. “He says I’m the best swordswoman he’s seen.”

“Really?” Arya asked, sarcasm thick and a clear challenge in her voice.

“Oh, yes.” Larisse arched her brow, “We should spar before we break our fast tomorrow.”

Gendry’s mother choked on her sip of wine and coughed violently. “My Lady Arya, Lady Larisse, please! The training yard is for men, not highborn ladies.”

Arya was well aware of how much of a disappointment she was as a lady, both to her parents and society, how much the ladies of Storm’s End snickered behind their hands when she walked past them wearing trousers. Larisse was a gift to those ladies- she liked to sing and wore proper dresses for a lady in her station.

They both nodded to satisfy Lady Baratheon. But Larisse had set down a challenge for Arya and the she-wolf wasn’t one to back down from anyone’s challenge. Especially a lion cub.

* * *

The next morning found Arya sharpening Needle in the courtyard, it was too early for anyone to be training. The sunlight had barely broken through the clouds when Larisse came blundering down the stairs, a snug pair of trousers on. Arya eyed the lion’s barely worn boots and rolled her eyes, a wolfish growl on the tip of her tongue.

Larisse pulled a wooden practice sword from the stand. “Shall we do this, Lady Arya?”

“Are you sure you want to sully your new clothes, Lady Larisse?” Arya asked with a faux innocence, standing from the wooden bench.

“I have plenty more coming from Casterly Rock when my betrothal to Lord Gendry is announced to the court, and I can always have more clothing made.” Larisse’s pretty face twisted into an ugly sneer. “You on the other hand? You should preserve what rags you have for the return journey to that frozen wasteland you call home.”

“You’re so sure that you’ll be staying,” Arya caught the wooden sword Larisse threw towards her feet easily.

Larisse dropped into a practiced fighting stand, her knees bent and her wrists loose as she held the sword up. “Like he would want to marry a snot nosed brat like you.”

“If he didn’t want to marry me, he wouldn’t have asked!” Larisse surged forward, Arya blocked her swipe quickly.

“Liar!” Larisse screeched, arm jutting out sharply.

“Why would I lie?” Arya taunted. “He will not be marrying a vapid cub like you. He deserves someone who actually cares about him, who doesn’t just want to carry his sons and sew pretty and make him give up the things he loves.”

Larisse laughed humourlessly. “Someone like you?”

Arya’s sword smacked Larisse’s thigh and Arya knew it would bruise. “Yeah, like me.”

Wooden swords striking harshly against each other rang throughout the courtyard and Arya felt the blood pumping boiling hot in her veins, her feet dancing around the other girl. A wolf playing with her pray.

Arya could see that Larisse at least knew how to use a sword but her body was too stiff, she wasn’t moving from her spot and and breathing was laboured for a practiced swordswoman.

But this wasn’t just about proving she was a better swordswoman.

This was about a spoiled highborn girl like Larisse thinking she could come and steal Arya’s _ pack _ . Arya’s _ Gendry _. The wonderful boy who always smelled like the forge and couldn’t quiet wash the soot from behind his ears. Arya knew that if he married Larisse, that Gendry would be gone. Larisse would replace him with an obnoxious, angry man.

An angry cry ripped from her throat and she slammed the butt of the handle into Larisse’s shoulder, sending her flying into a mud puddle, the sword plopping noisily next to her. Outraged, Larisse reached towards Arya’s legs, pulling her down into the puddle.

She didn’t have a weapon, and they were warriors fighting honourably. They were girls screaming and pulling each others hair. Larisse yanked her hair, Arya felt strands rip from her skull and she screamed as her knee rammed into the other girls chest. Suddenly she was pulled back, a strong pair of arms wrapped around her and lifting her off the ground as her mud-caked legs kicked out.

Larisse crawled up and started to advance towards her, a deep voice rumbled through Arya’s back when he growled. “Stop it! Both of you!”

The anger dripped off of Larisse’s face, she blushed a dark red to the tips of her mud covered hair and curtsied as best she could. “My apologies, My Lord Gendry. Lady Arya and I were only sparring when I was unceremoniously pushed onto the ground.”

Arya opened her mouth to tell anyone who would listen that she was a snake in lion’s skin and no one should believe Larisse Lannister, but before she could, Gendry had tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. She was too shocked to understand what he said to the blonde before turned on his heels and headed inside.

Arya caught sight of the stunned expression on Larisse’s face, unable to stop herself, Arya winked and waved her fingers in the friendliest way she could muster. Larisse stomped her feet and squealed as the mud splashed up.

“Why are you laughing? You’re in trouble.” Gendry kicked open his bedroom door and carefully dropped her back to the ground. “Take those off.” he nodded towards her crusted boots.

“Oh, _ I’m _in trouble?” she growled, toeing out of her boots one at a time.

Gendry rubbed his temples, likely at the headache crawling inside his head, and sighed heavily before glancing back up, “Yes, Arry, you are.”

“I’m back to Arry now?” she demanded.

Gendry sat on the corner of his bed, twisting his hands in his lap nervously. “You’ve always been Arry to me.”

“Have I?” she stomped around the room, making a point to flick dry clumps of mud on his carpet. “It sure did not seem like I was when you were going about calling me ‘_ my lady Arya _ ’ and escort me like a proper Lord and trying to _ marry _me.”

“Why don’t you want to be my wife, Arry?” And Arya froze. He had never asked that before. He had taken being ignored as well as Arya could have expected from someone who proposed as often as possible.

“I don’t want to be a Lady. I don’t want to marry anyone.” stumbled from between her numb lips without thought.

“Then why fight with Lady Larisse?”

“She had it coming!” she defended. “She’s loud and annoys me to no end.”

Gendry watched her for a moment before clearing his throat, staring her down he whispered, “Someone like you?”

“You-” Arya pointed at him, stepping back. “You! You were listening?!”

“I was in the forge and I heard the yelling. Imagine my shock to see the source of my affection pointing a sword at Lady Larisse and screaming about marrying me.” he chuckled.

“Don’t laugh!” she covered her face with her hands, listening to the bed dip slightly before he rose to his feet and approached her. “I said it as an example! I didn’t mean me-me like Arya Stark me, I meant some hypothetical girl that’s like me  _ but is not me _ who wants to marry you, because I certainly don’t and -”

“Arry,” she pulled her hands away and looked down. He was on his knees and he was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Will you help me save my sanity and marry me, you wild woman?”

Her breath caught. Gendry was asking her to marry him, kneeling on his dirty carpet in his room, looking up at a muddied and bruised girl with hair yanked out of her braid. But there was no disapproval or embarrassment, just love.

“If you call me Lady Wife, I will get on a horse and never speak to you again.” A blinding grin lit his face and suddenly she was spinning in the air. “You’re covered in mud now.”

“Good. What kind of a husband would I be if I let my  _ lady wife _ be a mess without me.”

“What did I just say?” she ran her fingers through his dark hair.

“I didn’t hear no, anything else you have to remind me.”

Scratching came from the door and Gendry reached over to open the door. Nymeria came bounding in, casually hopping onto the bed and burrowing into the featherbed. Her head turned lightly, studying them before she lost interest and closed her eyes.

“You’ve lost your bed.”

“There’s always the forest floor.”


End file.
